Sometimes
by Raining-spells
Summary: Oneshot. GD Sometimes, when it’s late at night and the lights are out, I let my mind wander. Back to that breezy afternoon. Back to the day my brother died. Back to the day I killed him.


**A/N: Hmmm i havent written in a while. I was bored, and tired, so i dragged myself to the computer to start and finish this. Thought i should at least finish one of the fics i start. Anywhoo enjoy, and watch out for the grammar mistakes in here, its not one of my best attempts. :D**

**Oh. And as always, the Harry Potter world belongs to J.K Rowling.**

One-Shot

**Sometimes**

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Sometimes, when it's late at night and the lights are out, I let my mind wander. It drifts through the memories swirling around my head and delves into things it shouldn't. It brings up stuff that should remain hidden, submerged under layers of denial and slight hate. My mind wanders into places that had been locked, forcing me to remember certain things that cause my body to quiver, and my heart to ache.

Sometimes, it takes me back to the days with him.

Those days, when the moon was bright and the sun warmed your face. When laughter was heard and shared, we were together. I treasured him, I adored him, I mapped his features with my fingertips and memorized every arch of his body. I caressed him gently and triumphed when he moaned. You might even say I loved him.

I spent those days of my youth hating him, desiring him, loving him and hating him again. Our relationship was different, but full of a passion that I couldn't match with anyone else. No one could ever make me feel like he did. No one could ever smile at me with such tenderness, with such reckless love, in their eyes like him.

He loved me, despite my red hair. Despite my total lack of money and freckles.

But all good things are lost. Not always fast, but slowly, over time, they disappear. Like an old handkerchief, or a worn book. Slowly they decay, and we loose them. They are no more. But handkerchiefs and books, those are easy things to forget. He, on the other hand, was not so hard to wipe from my mind. He didn't disappear from my memory so easily.

Instead, unlike a handkerchief, he stayed tucked away in the corner of my head and wrapped up nicely in my heart. Lurking there to strike me at odd moments. When I was mowing the lawn, or feeding the ducks, or shaving my legs, or was with another man. He would come from his sneaky crevasses and pounce on my unsuspecting mind, making me relive everything.

Every. Single. Thing.

I wouldn't be able to fight the onslaught of memories brought on, rendered helpless I succumb to them. I taste the strawberries we ate together; I smell the sweet grass of our picnics, I even hear the tune he would whistle when he was happy. The happiness and joy of our old lives would awe me, and for a single moment I would forget why it never lasted.

But that didn't last for long.

As soon as the good memories fled my mind the bad ones, the simply horrendous ones, would take it hostage. The blood, the tears, the lies, the hate, the deception. It would rise up and crush my feeble hopes. Drowning the very essence of my happiness to replace the sorrow once more.

And the tears wouldn't come, because they never come anymore. They have long since left my darkened eyes to search for a less using occupant.

The happy days of my youth, in the time I was with him, would crumble. The war, the dark era, would take place in my mind and show why it's never good to fall in love.

I, the noble daughter, the good pure one, would stand on the battlefield ready to die. Expecting to die. Fighting for the freedom of nameless faces, fighting for the millions of people I would never meet. During the fighting, the man I had so long suppressed the memory of would pop up.

And he wouldn't be a memory any more.

But he wouldn't be mine again either.

I, the noble daughter, the good pure one, would stand on the battlefield and stare into the eyes of a death eater. I would realize he left me, and all our happiness, for this. For the white mask and black scar branding his arm. For the love of a lord that was screwed up beyond belief.

The tears didn't fall, my face didn't crumble and I didn't collapse to my knees and cry out "Merlin, oh why!" but something broke. Something shattered and was lost inside, not to be found for many sleepless nights and empty days. Maybe never to be found. Weren't those days good enough for him? Wasn't our laughter fun enough? Wasn't my love worth anything?

He left me, and the good side. The memories of us popped up again, but only the good things, the laughter and smiles. The time without hate. I wander if in that moment, or the ones following it, if he will take off the mask and come back to me. I stare longer as dust rises around me and people fall, I stare into his eyes until he raises his wand and mutters what I could never forgive, and should have expected of a bastard Slytherin death eater.

The killing curse.

The green jet shot through the air slicing the dust in its wake. It hit its target with a muffled 'thump' and then evaporated into nothing. The green jet was no more, absorbed by the target.

And that target was my brother.

21 year old Ronald Weasley. Fiancé to Hermione Granger. Best Friend to Harry Potter. Brother to a loving sister. Father of an unborn child. He was standing too close to Voldemort so he was punished.

And he, the one who shared my laughter, and love, had killed him. He had ruthlessly taken the life of a most beloved brother while his back was turned, all the while looking into my eyes. The memories of us stopped, and I stared, immobile, at his living form. He disappeared from me once, but now he was about to disappear from me forever.

At 12:00 pm on a breezy Sunday afternoon Draco Malfoy was killed by the Avada Kedavra curse.

I wandered if he ever loved me. I wandered if the reason he stopped and stared at me that day was because he was struck by our love. I wandered if he enjoyed killing Ron, enjoyed the feeling of stripping away a person I loved most from me. I wandered that if I hadn't killed him, I might have gone up and snogged the sense out of him. I wandered if I could still love the monster he had become.

And somewhere, deep inside me, under the layers of denial and hate, I would picture his face, the perfection that was him, the essence that was him that rocked my body still. And I would know.

Sometimes, when it's late at night and the lights are out, I let my mind wander.

Back to that breezy afternoon.

Back to the day my brother died.

Back to the day I killed him.

And I realize I still love him anyway.

**A/N: Couldn't decide on an ended so it ended up being like this, i was a bit disappointed with it though. Meh whatever. :D**


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